This Isn't Hollywood
by MyStateOfMind
Summary: Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...
1. As Long As It's About Me

**Title:** This Isn't Hollywood

**Summary:** Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...

**Authors Note:** So, while I have two (very) unfinished stories in the Camp Rock archives, I wanted to get this one out there. I reckon I'll be writing a lot during the 80 days I now have off (YAY FOR EXAMS FINISHING!) and so, hopefully, I'll be able to work on all three and only slack slightly! Anyway, let me know what you think/whether you like it/what you think might happen, because honestly, I have no _real _clue apart from knowing what song I'm taking little bits from (_This Isn't Hollywood _by _Go:Audio_). So yes, I'll post this up and then get to work on building an actual plot... which might be the wrong way around. Huh. Oh well. Feedback is much appreciated!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Sonny With A Chance, the song This Isn't Hollywood or any of the songs I use at the beginning of each chapter. If I owned any of these things, I'd be rich and, alas, I'm not. Sob.

* * *

**These friends, they don't love you**

**They just love the hotel suites, now**

**I don't care what you think as long as it's about me**

**The best of us can find happiness in misery**

_**I Don't Care - Fall Out Boy**_

This is so not fair. Under no circumstances will this ever be fair. If I didn't know my mother so well, I'd be convinced that Ashton Kutcher was just around the corner and ready to announce that, for his special one-off episode of Punk'd, he'd managed to scam Chad Dylan Cooper into thinking that he had to endure a holiday with his family for three whole weeks.

Unfortunately, because I know my mother so well (though it's when she pulls stunts like this that I wish I didn't know her at all), I know that it's no practical joke that I'm on the plane journey from hell (seriously, has my mom never heard of first class? Or, even better, a private jet?), on my way to Hawaii, embarking on what my mother calls "the first family vacation we've had in five years".

Yeah, there's a reason we haven't had any family vacations in that long, Mom. It's called the 'everyone-thinks-family-vacations-are-STUPID' reason.

Family vacations should be vacations away from your family. And, despite what my mother says, the fact that I live alone and rarely see my family anyway is beside the point. This is a cruel and unusual punishment for doing nothing wrong whatsoever.

The little alien child that is sitting behind me (no, alien is not 'too strong', the child is green and wailing in a language that nobody on Earth would ever understand because it is gibberish. Therefore: alien child.) kicks the back of my seat for the fifth time and I grind my teeth together, fighting the urge to turn around and giving the child invader of our planet - and, more importantly, of Chad Dylan Cooper's personal space - a piece of my mind.

She'd basically just shown up at the studio (my mother, not the alien child because that would be weird), having caught wind of my three week break from filming thanks to the amazing (note the sarcasm) people at HotTunes who were having a slow news day and so decided to report on what yours truly was up to (not that I can really blame them for picking _me_, but regardless, I'll blame them for the fact that they gave my mom the information she needed to be able to show up and drag me to Hawaii), and announced that we were going away. Callie was in the car, ready to go, and she wasn't taking no for an answer.

She really wasn't. I said 'no' at least fifty times.

Yes. But now I'm here. Present tense and Chad Dylan Cooper is sitting, 30,000 feet in the air over a freakin' ocean (don't ask me which one it is; it's irrelevant and I'm not 100% sure anyway), with his mom and sister on either side of him, the alien child from planet WEIRD behind him, mixing with NORMAL people and, oddly enough, insanely conscious of the fact that he is currently thinking about himself in third person.

Why do I do that?

Shrugging to myself, I watch the tiny screen installed in the seat in front of me and groan as the 'time remaining' glares back at me, the digits telling me that I still have an hour of this to endure. An entire hour. 60 minutes.

If I could be bothered, I'd work out how many seconds, but I can't. I don't do Math. I'm an actor; I don't need to do sums. Or know the names of the oceans. These bits of knowledge are just unimportant in life.

"Chad, isn't this exciting?" My mom grins at me, obviously expecting a similar reaction from me in return.

I'm nodding within seconds of contorting my expression into a face that says otherwise. "Sure."

"Callie, isn't this exciting?" She turns her gaze to my sister and gives her the same grin.

"Totally," Callie says, her fingers moving deftly along the trackpad of her Nintendo DS. She sounds about as enamored as I do. At least my sister is on my side too. Even if that is a rare thing.

Then again, you never really know what Callie is thinking. She's a weird thirteen year old. I mean, she doesn't even watch Mackenzie Falls. And her own brother is in it. Come on, how many teenagers don't watch Mackenzie Falls?

Exactly.

Closing my eyes, I sigh and try and think positively about this entire trip (even though Sonny had the audacity to tell me the other day that I was incapable of thinking positively about anything - it's a long story, but basically I was complaining that the episode of the Falls that we were shooting was going to be a _complete trainwreck _because Portlyn had taken it upon herself to _improvise _during a _key _scene and made _me _look bad when I wasn't sure how to reply to her _ridiculous _accusation of Mackenzie being full of himself and so I was attempting to convince Sonny of the fact that my entire career would be in jeopardy if we didn't re-shoot the entire scene and, yeah, she'd told me to stop being melodramatic and think positively).

But yes. Positively. Optimism. What… what could be good about this trip? Uh...

I mean, I guess it could be a chance to see Hawaiian fans of mine. If, you know, they get Mackenzie Falls in Hawaii. Huh. Do they get Mackenzie Falls in Hawaii? I know they get it in England (all the fanmail I get from hot British chicks who put 'u' in color and say 'mum' instead of 'mom' tells me that) and in Australia (I totally went there for promotion and they loved me too) but I have no idea about… well, anywhere else. I guess I'll find that out, right?

And hey, it's practically one big beach. And one big beach means a whole hoard of girls in bikinis, which is always a mega plus. Girls in bikinis for three weeks may make this trip worthwhile.

See, I can be positive. Take that, Sonny Munroe, with your perkiness and optimism and your accusations that I can't look on the good side of things. I _always _look on the good side of things. Duh. I refuse to stand on Portlyn's bad side just in case it puts my good side (which, let's face it, is either side, really) in the shadows. I'm so positive. Sonny just doesn't realize this.

Huh. I wonder what Sonny is doing in her three weeks off. Probably organizing a peace picnic to help children with dreams or something equally as charitable. That just has Sonny written all over it, really.

I bet she isn't being forced to go on holiday with her mom and sister. Nope, I bet it's just me that has to endure that kind of torture.

Though… Sonny would probably go willingly if her mom came up with an idea like this. She'd think it was _awesome_ and be perky and cute in general about it.

Except… not cute. Because Chad Dylan Cooper does not think that Sonny Munroe has any cute qualities whatsoever. I don't. Whatsoever.

I open my eyes, glancing at the screen again in order to check how long I have left on the flight from hell (honestly, is a private jet too much to ask?) and hope that it's gone down considerably since I last looked. It was 60 minutes then… it is now…

54 minutes.

What. The. Hell. I'm sure I spent more than 6 minutes thinking. I had to have spent more then 6 minutes thinking. Ugh. 56 more minutes? How did I get myself into this? What did I do to deserve this? What could I have possibly done to anger the gods and make them want to inflict this sort of… punishment on me?

I bet the gods are just all jealous.

This is so not fair.

---

"Rachel Cooper. I booked yesterday."

My mom gives her name to the cute brunette at the reception desk and then proceeds to send yet another grin in my direction. Like, the fifth one this hour. Seriously, if I keep having to return these happy expressions then, by the end of the three weeks, my face may be in a permanent smile. Which would not be good for my acting career. A Mackenzie who always smiles would _not _be good drama, at all.

"Certainly, Ms. Cooper," the girl says, glancing up at my mom and then her eyes slide over to where I'm standing. Recognition jumps into them immediately (I guess Mackenzie Falls does air over here. Sweet. That'll save me the trouble of introducing myself to everyone; they'll know automatically) and I brace myself for the all-familiar scream that usually comes seconds after someone realizes who they're standing opposite. Instead, she just laughs, as though she knows something I don't.

Wait. What? That is not the reaction that Chad Dylan Cooper usually gets.

Handing my mom two key cards, she shoots another smile at both of us (Callie is sitting in one of the armchairs that they have in the lobby for some obscure reason; why have an armchair in a lobby?) and gestures to the elevator beside the desk. "Have a nice stay."

"Okay, honey, I got you your own room… well, I'm sure you know why. But Callie and I are on the fifth floor. You're on the sixth. And don't even think that because we have separate rooms, it's an excuse not to see us at all. We'll come and hunt you down," Mom says, her smile hinting that she may be joking but her reputation telling me otherwise. She really will hunt me down if I avoid her, make no mistake about that.

I nod, picking up the case that I'd been forced to pack against my will, and snatching the card key with the big number six scrawled on it. "You know where I sleep, Mom, I get it. Talk to you later!"

"Don't think I'm joking, Chad!" She calls after my retreating back as I press the button for the elevator. Does this hotel not have bell boys? You know, people who will carry my case for me? It really should invest in some.

Stepping into the enclosed area, I watch as the door closes with a ping and press the button for the sixth floor. Three weeks in this place. Huh. It might not be _that _bad. I mean, besides the fact that I'll be forced to spend more time with my mom and sister than I would ever _voluntarily _choose to, it could have been worse. The sun was shining, the receptionist was kinda cute… though what was with the laughing? I've never had that reaction before. Ever. Nobody just _laughs _at me. What reason did she have to just laugh at me?

The doors open on the sixth floor and I walk out, looking down at the key card in my hand. 616. Looking at the numbers on the doors, I follow the ascending order; 612, 614… 616. As I put down the case, I hear a girl come out of one of the rooms closer to the elevator and skip (yes, _skip_, I can tell by the pattern of the footsteps) to it. When I glance up to see whether this girl was of an acceptable age to be _skipping, _I catch a glimpse of brown hair before the doors slid shut. Huh. That hair looks familiar.

I shake my head, pushing the card in the slot and opening the door.

Ugh. My first thought is exactly that: ugh. It's no five star hotel, that's for sure. It's not my big apartment in the Hollywood Hills. It's some hotel where… y'know, _normal _people stay. I'm not even sure I trust that the maids have cleaned it properly, to be honest.

Dumping my case on the bed (single. It's a single bed. Not that I was planning on sharing it with anyone, but still, I need space!) I open it up and pull a new shirt from it, taking about a minute to change from the t-shirt I wore on the flight. Then, wanting to get out of the room as fast as I can - already planning to spend as little time as possible within the potentially dirty four walls during my stay - I make my way back out of the room, closing the door behind me and navigating my way back down to the lobby, hoping that my mom and sister are safely out of the vicinity and in their own, probably dirtier, room.

"As soon as I get off work, cousin, I'll show you what there is to do on this island!" The receptionist is engrossed in conversation with someone who has their back to me. And, as odd as it may sound, it's a very familiar back. How can a back be familiar? Well, whatever. It's familiar. Like the hair I saw in the elevator.

Hey. It totally looks like the same hair.

I stop and shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, trying not to look as though I'm listening in and more like I'm waiting for someone. Play it cool. Or… something.

"I'm totally excited!" The familiar-backed, familiar-haired person replies, speaking in an equally familiar voice, making it official that this person is definitely someone I know. But who? My mind has gone blank and, honestly, I can't recall a name.

"Oh! And you'll never guess who I just checked in! Seriously, it's like… fate, or something. You'd literally just finished talking to me about him and voila, he's standing right there with his mom."

Wow. The familiar-backed, familiar-haired, familiar-sounding girl knows me too. Though… everyone knows me. I don't know everyone.

It takes a few seconds for the other girl to reply and, as soon as she does, her identity dawns on me. "Oh my God, Becca, please be kidding…"

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not," the reception girl replies as she catches a glimpse of me. And yeah, I'll confess, I stopped being subtle when I realized who it was and am now kinda just staring at the familiar-backed, familiar-haired, familiar-sounding, familiar-_everything _girl who is standing at the desk and wondering how the hell she can be here. "And, even more unfortunately for you, he's standing right behind you, looking like he's seen a ghost."

She spins around almost immediately and her eyebrows shoot up in utter shock when she realizes that her cousin, the receptionist, is, in fact, right. "Oh my God."

Wow. It really was her. If it were an episode of Mackenzie Falls, I'd probably ask someone to pinch me right about now, but it's not. And that might ruin my skin. It… she was really here. Why was she here? How was she here? Did my mom _know _she was going to be here; is that why she was so hell bent on coming here? Oh my God, is my mom trying to set me up with her? First Selena Gomez, now my own _mother_? What the hell had I done in a past life to deserve this? Seriously, if I wanted to like her, then _I would_! I thought we'd established this already!

She's the first one to speak (well, isn't she always? Talk, talk, talk). "Chad?"

I raise my eyebrows, trying not to look as though I'm _too _taken aback that she's there (though that damn receptionist, as cute as she is, totally made me sound uncool with her 'seen a ghost' metaphor… or simile or… whatever) and copy her tone. "Sonny?"

Well. This should be interesting.


	2. How Come I See You?

**Title: **This Isn't Hollywood

**Summary: **Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...

**Authors Note: **I know, I know, you may be confused. Nope, you didn't sign up to get alerts from a story called 'This Isn't Hollywood' but I changed the title and summary, just to fit. Same story, same first chapter, same… everything else. But I heard this song (This Isn't Hollywood by Go:Audio) and fell in love and this is _almost _the EXACT plotline I had in mind for this story and so, because it was so incredibly perfect, I had to use it. And I'm sorry this is so short; I wrote it in a hurry before I went to see McFly yesterday (WOOTWOOT LOVE THEM) and only just got time to post it up. I'll have a better one up tomorrow or Tuesday, for sure! And, one other thing: let me know what you think, _please. _I loved the reviews I got, but I got a lot of alert emails too. And while I _love _that people like it enough to put it on alert, I'd like to hear exactly what you liked! Just me being selfish, I know, but it would be much appreciated. Anyway, I'll get on with it!

**Disclaimer: **Nope, don't own anything. Except… what I do own. Which… isn't this.

* * *

**People say I only hear what I want to**

**That much is true**

**People say I only see what I want to**

**Then how come I see you?**

_**You And Me - One Night Only**_

"What are you doing here, Chad?" She asks, taking a few steps forwards and resting her hands on her hips (but, surprisingly enough, not in a Blondie-like gesture of 'I'm the blonde one on So Random and I'm giving you attitude to make up for the fact I lack brain cells' but more in a 'I always stand cutely like this' way - which, come to think of it, she probably does) and frowning (causing her nose to wrinkle at the top like it always does when she's confused... not that I make observations about Sonny's facial features a lot, or anything...).

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" I reply, ignoring one of the things my mom always taught me as a kid; never answer a question with a question. I'm not too worried, though; she also taught me to help old ladies across the road and to take the high road when someone wronged you and I always ignored those teachings. It's not like I've killed someone by replying to a question with a question.

Her nose crinkles more as she deepens the frown, her hands still resting on her hips. Her fingernails are painted purple. Huh, they were orange yesterda - uh. I only know that because I was looking at her fingers to distract me from looking at her FACE, obviously. "I asked first."

"Yeah, well, I'm more important so like chronology matters," I say, shrugging my shoulders and watching as she rolls her eyes and sighs, like she always seems to do when I'm around (although I don't think it's a lovesick kind of sigh, like the ones I encounter when I meet a fan or a girl looks at me or after I've kissed someone goodnight after the first - and usually only - date; it's more like an exasperated sigh).

"Just answer the question, Chad."

I hesitate, wondering how far I can push her, and earn a glare in response (and sheesh, for a sunny, upbeat person her glares sure put other glares to shame. I should know; I've been on the receiving end of my - and the rest of the Falls cast's, most likely - fair share). "Vacation," I mutter, glancing at the floor. "My mom wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Is she here with you?" Sonny asks, her frown being replaced with a very wide (and very fake-looking) smile. "Or was it a vacation for her, from you?"

My turn to frown - hey, I'll admit it was a good comeback, but that isn't the point; Chad Dylan Cooper does NOT get burned like that - and I try and think of a witty one-liner to retort with. "Like that matters - though for your information, she's here and if you'd listen carefully then you'd know that your cousin kinda just told you that, uh-huh - the point is: you're here too. So, unless you're a figment of my imagination - which I doubt because one, you'd be nicer to me and two, I would not be dreaming about bring on a family vacation - looks like you'll have to put up with me too."

Not exactly one line... but it was okay, right?

"At least you recognize how much of an ordeal it will be for me to have to 'put up with you'," she quotes, shrugging.

Ugh. I did just say those words, didn't I? Way to provide her with ammunition, Chad, jeez.

"...What are you doing here?" I ask, after a few seconds of just staring at her, trying to figure out whether to dignify her last comment with a response and deciding against it (and, no, it wasn't because I couldn't work out what to say - I'm never speechless, seeing as I'm Chad Dylan Cooper - I just thought it best... not to reply...).

She glances at the girl at the desk who isn't even pretending that she's not interested in the scene in front of her. No jokes, her elbows are on the desk and it's like she's fascinated by the exchange.

Psh. She should try having them. Every day. At work. It gets real old, fast.

"I'm on vacation too. My dad's side of the family live here, and Becca has been trying to get me to come visit for forever. The three week break seemed like the perfect opportunity." She says, shrugging again. "Of course, I've suddenly realized how very wrong I might have been in assuming that."

"Yeah. Well…" I say, lamely, racking my brains for something else to retort back with. Something that will have me victorious and guarantee that I don't look like a complete idiot standing here in front of her. "It wasn't my idea to even be here, but I'll definitely be thanking my mom that little bit more for dragging me along, now that I know you're in the same… place."

Sonny rolls her eyes at me. "You know what, Chad? Seeing as neither of us want the other to be here, how about I ignore you and you ignore me and we can try and escape this entire vacation with this conversation being our _only _conversation?"

I shrug. Part of me doesn't want to agree to that. Not because I want to speak to _Sonny _(I mean, _God, _why would I want to speak to Sonny more than I have to? I just think she has pretty hair, is all. Doesn't mean I want to have a conversation with her) but because if I get bored out of my mind on this vacation (which is looking more than likely, to be honest) I want to have someone to aggravate. And, let's face it, Sonny Munroe is practically the perfect target.

Just… don't tell my mom. Because (knowing her, as we've established I do because she's my _mom_) she'll come up with some crap about me only being mean to Sonny because I have 'ulterior motives' which, in mom speak, means that she thinks I have a crush on her. And I don't. Have a crush on her. I'm just mean to her.

Uh… wait. That… I don't think that thought came out right. If, you know, it's possible for thoughts to not come out right.

"I'm not so sure that'll work," I finally say, because she's getting impatient waiting for me to stop getting my thoughts wrong (not that she's aware I'm getting my thoughts wrong because I know for a fact that Sonny, while she might be able to 'read people' - though we all know how well that turned out for her last time - she isn't a mind reader) and her glare is getting harsher by the second. Honestly. If looks could kill, Sonny Munroe would be indefinitely locked up for the murder of the best actor of our generation.

"Oh, really?" She says, her tone attempting to be airy and light and nonchalant but (remember, I can read people pretty well too) with an underlying element of confusion mixed in there. "And why is that, Cooper?"

I take my hands out of my pockets and fold my arms, taking a step towards her and bringing us pretty damn close. She looks taken aback by the closeness for a few seconds but, as soon as she realizes that she's let her guard down, her fake-icy demeanor is back and she's glaring again. Typical Sonny.

"Because we both know how hard it is for you to stay away from me," I say, smirking. This is much better. No more stumbling over what to say or being taken by surprise with the witty statements coming from Sonny's lips.

She raises her eyebrows and makes a scoffing sound, her brown eyes looking right into mine. "Says the person who showed up at the same vacation spot as me. Doesn't look like I'm the one having trouble staying away, Chad."

Before I can think about the best way to react, my mouth has acted of it's own accord. "What? I _told _you, I was _forced _to… ugh."

"Sure."

"You know what?" I say, after a few seconds of us just staring at each other - because as much as I liked the fact that she was staring at me (figures that she'd use getting mad as an excuse to, really) this was boring and might give people (the girl at the desk who was STILL watching us as though we were a freakin' soap opera which, okay, may have been oddly true in a twisted way, but was still not appreciated) the wrong idea. "Fine. I'll pretend you're not here and you can _try _and pretend that I'm not here - but you will be the one to crack first, Munroe - and we'll just ignore each other until the end of the vacation. When are you leaving?"

"The 10th," Sonny says, still staring at me, but her expression has softened slightly. "You?"

I sigh. Same day. Probably same flight too; the airport was so incredibly small that I highly doubted there were two flights _to _LA on the same day. _From _LA was understandable, I guess. "Same day."

"Great. I'll ignore you until the 10th."

I nod. "Fine by me."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good!"

I lean my face down closer to her, suppressing a laugh as a shocked expression covers her face. I've never really been this close to her before. I can see the light dusting of freckles that she has over her nose and that her eyes aren't _just _brown, but that they've got little flecks of different shades of brown in them. Like brown and gold and hazel and…

Seriously. Why the hell do I care?

Remembering why I'd leaned my face down in such proximity to hers in the first place (and, _no, _it wasn't to _kiss _her, as my brain annoyingly considered for a fraction of a second) I smirk before whispering: "Good."

Sonny just stares at me for a few more seconds, her expression unreadable (which, for someone who can read people as well as I can, is a rare find) before putting her hands on my shoulders and pushing me away (pretty hard, might I add) before walking back to the desk. "I'll wait for your shift to end in my room, okay Becca?"

Becca grins, nodding. "Sure, Sonny. I know where it is. I'll come and knock."

Without even a goodbye, Sonny turns on her heel and walks quickly over to the elevator, her flip-flops providing the soundtrack as she does. For some unknown reason, I can't take my eyes off her as she reaches out and presses the button, getting into the enclosed elevator space as soon as the doors ping open and, with one last glance in my direction, is whisked up to her floor. Which, if I have it right, is the same floor as me.

Well… that was weird.

Sighing, I unfold my arms and look around, noticing some people staring in my direction. Great. They'd better not be the type of people to run and tell the closest gossip rag about the celebrities they've seen.

A laugh from the direction of the check-in desk attracts my attention and I let my gaze slide to Sonny's cousin, who is still watching me, an amused expression written all over her face (which, now that I think about it, does bear some resemblance to Sonny; why did I not notice that before?).

"What?" I ask, frowning in her direction. There was nothing funny about that. And she'd laughed at me before, too. Did she just laugh at things that weren't funny? Did Sonny get all the sense of humor genes in her family and the rest of them just got the duds?

She raises her eyebrows at me as if to say 'if you don't know what I'm laughing at then I'm not going to tell you' and then shrugs. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

I narrow my eyes and turn away from her, figuring I've given Sonny enough time to get up to her room and that it'd be safe for me to follow suit without her seeing me and accusing me of being a stalker again. Stupid accusations. I'm so not a stalker.

Making my way over to the elevator, I press the button and wait for the lift to make it's expedition from (presumably) the sixth floor and down to collect me.

I can _so _ignore her until the 10th. It's not like I want to talk to her anyway. And the idea that I may need someone to aggravate… well, I can just call Portlyn or something. They have cell service here, right?

They… they do have cell service here, right?

They'd better.

I can so ignore Sonny until the 10th. The _real _question is whether she can ignore me.


	3. Witness My First Breakdown

**Title: **This Isn't Hollywood

**Summary: **Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...

**Authors Note: **So I'm beyond sorry that this has taken so long and that it's so suckish! I'm trying to work out exactly what I want to happen in this story and it's harder than I expected, so any ideas would be lovely. I've not been to Hawaii either, so I'm doing research but I'd really appreciate any ideas of some things that I can have Sonny/Chad doing in their few weeks vacation! That would be awesome. But I'm now back home from THE BEST WEEKEND OF MY LIFE (10th July - 12th of July = PURE AWESOME) and I'll be writing away from this moment on. I'm unsure of whether I made Chad get too deep and philosophical too early on in the story, so contributions and feedback are, as always, much appreciated! Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **See previous chapters, because I've got nothing witty for the disclaimer right now.

* * *

**Come one, come all**

**You're just in time**

**To witness my first breakdown**

**Cause there's a mile gone**

**For every minute passed**

**When I'm stuck in this town**

_**Come One, Come All - All Time Low**_

I wake up the next morning, my eyes snapping open when the inconsiderate people next door (who _obviously _have no idea who is staying in the room next door, otherwise they'd think twice before being disruptive) slammed the door to their room at some ungodly hour in the morning. What a joke. This would never have happened in a five-star hotel in LA, I'm telling you that.

After lying staring at the cracked ceiling for at least ten minutes (honestly, I'm not too sure that anything could have _been _more boring) I decide to get up and see what there is to do in this joint. I mean, if I'm going to be staying here for three whole weeks I have to be aware of what lies ahead. And, if what I've seen so far is anything to go by (and, alright, I haven't seen much because when I was _going _to go explore last night, an impromptu meeting with one Sonny Munroe distracted me from that mission) the next few weeks will be nothing to look forward to.

Heaving myself out of bed and grabbing the first clothes I find, I pull them on and glance in the mirror before deciding that it'll do. My appearance, that is. I wasn't going to be doing much and, let's face it, Chad Dylan Cooper rarely looks _bad._

I made sure I had my key card before I shut the door behind me, sauntering over to the elevator. Getting locked out would not be good, especially if I have to make a quick dash back to my room for whatever reason. The girls in Hawaii could be just as crazy and fangirly as the ones back in LA, after all.

Pushing the button, I let the tip of my finger rest there for a little longer than it has to, waiting for the metal doors to slide open.

Behind me a door opens and I spin around quickly - with the name of one girl flashing into my head, much to my dismay because I should NOT be thinking like that - to see who it is. It's not her, though, I realize as a trolley is pushed out of the open doorway, piled with cleaning utensils. Yeah. Unless she's upgraded from Chuckle City to cleaning hotel rooms (and, yes, it would be an upgrade) it's not her.

I sigh, turning back around and stepping into the now waiting elevator, pressing the ground floor button. This is weird. Ever since that tiny brunette joined that show and made herself comfortable at Condor Studios - claiming her own table in the cafeteria and eating a hell of a lot of frozen yogurt in that prop room that those So Randomers call home - I haven't been able to get her out of my mind. And I don't like it. It's just not natural. _Chad Dylan Cooper _is supposed to be impossible to faze. Yet Sonny Munroe seems to be breaking that rule and fazing me. And because I'm being fazed, I don't even know what to do about it! Pure evil, that's what I'm sure she is.

Leaning back on the mirrored walls of the elevator (without even looking in them, what is _wrong _with me?) I groan. Except, I'm not sure she is pure evil. Because she's so naive and smiley and… _peppy. _All the time. Evil people aren't naive or smiley or peppy at all. At least… they aren't in Hollywood.

A dinging sound tells me that we're (… me and the elevator, duh) at my destination of the ground floor and I open my eyes quickly, standing up straight and pushing all thoughts of the So Random brunette out of my mind. After all, we made an agreement; I'm not talking to her, she's not talking to me… if I can't get her out of my head when she's made it her mission _not _to talk to me then I should obviously be seeking psychiatric help as soon as I get back to Los Angeles. Right?

I walk out into the quiet lobby (assumedly everyone is outside, basking in the sun) and look around, making sure that the coast is clear of both Sonny and my mom, neither of whom I particularly want to run into.

"You didn't demand to be moved to a new hotel then?" A voice comes from behind me and I frown (I figured she'd be the first to crack, but I didn't think she'd break _this _early) before turning around and facing the speaker.

Sonny's cousin. What was her name again? I open my mouth, raking through my memories of the night before as I try to remember her name. I'm sure Sonny said it… if only I could remember what she'd said.

Her eyebrow raises as she watches me, folding her arms as her lips give away her want to smirk. "Maybe this will help? Hey, I'm Rebecca Dewan, nice to meet you."

Unable to help myself, I roll my eyes at her sarcasm. "Uh-huh. Sonny's cousin, the receptionist from last night who seemed to find our argument the most riveting thing in the world. I remember who you are. Why would I demand to be moved to a new hotel?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. From what Sonny's said about you, you're a little bit of a nightmare in general. Cardboard cutouts of yourself as invitations? Death by Chadlate? Feeling the need to do the exact opposite of what people tell you to do the majority of the time? Demanding to switch hotels because my cousin is staying here too just seemed like the type of thing you'd do."

"Okay, one: Sonny hardly knows me. Just because she works with those losers on So Random who are all jealous and so claim to hate me, she claims to hate me too. Two: death by Chadlate was _genius. _And three: I think I can handle being in the same building as Sonny for three weeks without needing to go to a new hotel. I'm not a diva. Unlike, according to Santiago, your cousin." I retort.

Becca laughs - actually _laughs _- and then bites her lip in an attempt to _stop _herself laughing. Personally, I'm under the impression that if you can't control your laughter in a way that doesn't involve you _biting _a part of yourself then you shouldn't be allowed out of the house.

"That may be true. Or, you know, you could just still be in this hotel because your mommy wouldn't give in to your demands and switch."

Seriously. This girl reminds me of Portlyn; she would be cute if she stopped speaking.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes once again and force a smile in her direction. Being an actor comes in useful sometimes (what am I _saying? _Being an actor _always _comes in useful), especially when I'm trying to come across as genuine. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Um…" She lifts her finger to her chin and feigns thinking for a fraction of a second and then shakes her head. "Nope."

"Well," I start, getting ready to get the heck out of this unwanted conversation. "You'll have to go and find someone else to bother. Because unlike you, I _do _have somewhere to be. I would ask you to tell Sonny I said hi, but we're not speaking to each other so that's unnecessary. I'll see you around - if I can't avoid you at all costs, that is."

With a nod, I back away from her for a few steps and then spin on the balls of my feet and make my way out of the lobby before she can say anything else. Annoyance obviously runs in the genes of the Munroe family. Sucks for them. And for me, seeing as I can't seem to escape them.

The sunlight dazzles me as I hit the sidewalk and head in my chosen direction (right, if it's of any importance). Where it leads to, I have no idea, but it's going somewhere and it's (hopefully) going somewhere that is far, far away from any relation of Sonny or any relation of mine because my mom and sister are still around here somewhere. If there's any justice in the world, all of the aforementioned people will have gone in the opposite direction.

Then again, with the way my luck seems to be heading, they probably all turned right and are currently having a freakin' peace picnic on the beach, sharing funny anecdotes about stupid things I've done and laughing shrilly. That would be… my worst nightmare.

After walking for a few minutes, I spot a beach across the road. It takes me less than a second to make my decision and, remembering to look both ways before I cross the road (please, you think I'm going to take any chances with getting hit by a car when I have to protect a face like this?), I jog over to the opposite side of the street and jump the small fence that separates the sand from the sidewalk.

Slipping my sandals from my feet, I let my toes sink into the warm sand and carry my shoes as I walk a little bit along the beach. Oddly enough, this feels really… relaxing. Obviously I've been to the beach before - I live near one, for crying out loud - but I can't remember the last time I didn't have somewhere to be. Even on days off back in LA I had plans with people. I have no plans with anyone here; I'm living in the moment. For the first time in a hell of a long while.

I glance around at the company I have on the beach. People from all over, I guess, as I see families, couples, kids and even a couple of dogs jumping around on the sand. I might be Chad Dylan Cooper, the Hollywood "bad boy" if you will, but I still have a heart. And this is pretty awesome.

I'll never understand it - not really - but these people are all happy, regardless of the fact that they're not all insanely rich, or on a successful TV show or winners of a number of Tween Choice Awards. They don't need all that stuff. Which, crazily, makes me think that maybe _I _don't need all that stuff. What if I don't need all that stuff? What do people live for, when they don't have awards to win and TV shows to make more successful?

The answer dawns on me as I see a couple in the sea, splashing each other. They're about my age, laughing at each other despite the fact they're having a water war. In the few moments that I'm watching them, the splashing ceases and the boy bounds through the water, throwing his arms around his girlfriend and just holding her close to him, saying something that makes her laugh again. Those two people - not TV stars at all - are just living for life. That's what people live for. Life and love and…

Ugh.

What the _hell _has come over me? Why am I suddenly thinking deeply? Chad Dylan Cooper isn't a deep thinker. Nu-uh. This is all Sonny Munroe's fault. I'm not entirely sure how, but blaming it on her is the easiest thing. All Sonny's fault.

And speaking of Sonny…

I have to stop my jaw from dropping as a familiar laugh draws my attention to two people in the water a little to the left of the couple I'd been watching. Sonny Munroe is making her way out of the sea, engrossed in conversation with another girl who is walking out of the ocean with her, in a _wet bikini _and, horrifyingly, the first thought I have is one that should repulse me but doesn't. It doesn't at all.

Sonny is _hot._

Even in a bright yellow bikini - which, let's face it, not many people can pull off and, therefore, people should just not bother trying - Sonny Munroe looks _hot._

Holy shit.

I know I should probably stop staring (because the longer I stare, the more cool points I lose, I'm sure of it) but I can't seem to tear my eyes away from her. Why the heck haven't I noticed that Sonny is hot until now?

Probably because I've never seen her in a bikini until now.

Whoa.

No matter now many times I tell myself to stop looking at her, I can't seem to do it. Her so-brown-it's-almost-black hair is sticking to her face and, still talking, she lifts her hand and pushes it away, making her way into shallower water. Just as she's about to reach the sand (and just as I'm telling myself for the 100th time to drag my eyes away from her because it's almost wrong; I shouldn't think that the enemy is hot! It's not supposed to happen!) I hear my name being called from across the beach and, thankful for the excuse I've been looking for to turn away, I look in that direction.

And instantly wish I hadn't.

Worst. Nightmare.

"Chad!" My mother, in a pair of last season's oversized sunglasses and a overly vibrant sarong, is waving vigorously at me from down the beach. Callie is playing her Nintendo DS (big surprise there; did she ever put that thing down?) and I try and work out whether it's too late to pretend I have no idea who they are.

"Chad! C'mere!" She calls again and it becomes evident that, yes, it is too late to pretend I don't know them. Ugh. I should've stayed staring at Sonny.

Then, in an attempt to _make _me definite about my decision commit suicide later, my mom does something unforgivable. "Chad Dylan Cooper, stop gawking at that girl and come over here!"

What. The. Hell.

Glaring at my mother, I glance back at Sonny, hoping that she hasn't heard any of the exchange. My hopes are dashed immediately; she's stopped dead on the sand, her arms folded and looking from me to my mom, an amused expression on her face. Her friend is doing the same.

Ugh. This is worse than the peace picnic vision I had.

I look back over at my mom, who has lifted her sunglasses so that I can see her eyes and is watching me expectedly. Ugh. There is no way I'm going over to sit with her now. Not after she… I can't believe she said that! And Sonny… Sonny…

Turning on my heel, I walk back in the direction that I came in, jumping over the fence quickly and taking my chance with the road and not stopping until I'm safely out of view of the beach. As soon as I'm sure I'm safe, I groan and lean back against one of the buildings, sliding down the wall until I'm crouching with my head in my hands.

Sonny is hot. My mom wants to kill me. The ground needs to swallow me up as soon as possible. My little sister has a serious addiction to video games. And it's only the second day. Could this vacation _get _any worse?

… Don't answer that.


	4. Happy To Be Stuck With You

**Title: **This Isn't Hollywood

**Summary: **Three weeks vacation in Hawaii, two famous teenagers and one twist of fate. The stupid rivalry is out of sight and out of mind, emotions are becoming harder to deny and this isn't Hollywood...

**Authors Note: **So I'm soooo sorry it took me so long to get this out to all you guys! Summer took over and then there was a period where my beta couldn't get to reading and correcting all my mistakes, so it's just been a long period of absence. Hopefully I'll be a lot better at this from now and you'll get a chapter a lot sooner than you got this! Linsi was convinced that everyone would love it, so here's to hoping she's right! Please review, and tell me what you think. I'll get started on the next chapter right now!

**Disclaimer: **See previous chapters, because I've got nothing witty for the disclaimer right now.

* * *

**We are bound by all the rest**

**Like the same phone number**

**All the same friends**

**And the same address**

**Yes, its true, I am happy to be stuck with you**

**Yes, its true, I'm so happy to be stuck with you**

_**Stuck With You - Huey Lewis & the News**_

I manage to avoid both Sonny and my mom for the next few hours, somehow finding myself on the Lahaina Historic Trail and pretending to be interested in the history of the neighborhood (yeah, right, like I care about anything historic) while really trying to figure out what I'm going to do when I get back to the hotel. No doubt my mom will have something to say about my disappearing act (she _had _promised to hunt me down, had she not?) and Sonny… well. Maybe it's a good thing that Sonny promised not to speak to me for the entirety of the vacation, because I'm sure that my mom's little outburst would haunt me for the next three weeks otherwise. But the trail comes to an end, and while - in normal circumstances - I would've been more than relieved that the history lesson was _over, _I still don't have any bright ideas about how I'm going to talk my way out of the predicament that my mom (and Sonny, really, because if she hadn't been hot then I wouldn't have noticed) has gotten me into. So (and I can't believe I'm forced to stoop this low) I walk back around to the start of the trail and go through it again. Yes. Really.

After three times around and still no ideas, I resign myself to my fate and start trudging back to the hotel at around 4:30pm, hands in my pockets and gaze firmly on the sidewalk.

The morning's events keep running through my head, like a video on loop. Sonny in that yellow bikini… my mom in her _hideous _sarong… "stop gawking at that girl!"… It all seems totally surreal. But it happened. There is no denying the facts; Sonny is hot, my mom hates me and I will never be able to think about the So Random(!) girl without thinking of that moment ever again.

I make sure the coast is clear before turning the corner into the hotel, increasing my pace as I push my way through the revolving door and speed-walk over to the elevator. This - obviously - is the most dangerous part of my mission (I'm sorry, what do you _mean? _What mission? Duh! Mission Get Back To My Hotel Room Without Mom Or Sonny Seeing Me And Mentioning Certain Things!) and I need to be very careful about how I handle things… whether Sonny's cousin is working, for one. Or whether the lobby is the hangout spot for both of my TBA (To Be Avoided) parties.

Not even stopping to see whether anyone was recognizing me, I dodge my way past people in the lobby and, in record time, stop in front of the elevator, pressing the button in a swift motion. The arrow pointing up glows red and I can hear the mechanics in the elevator shaft start up, bringing the lift down to me. Almost there…

The instant the doors open, I slide inside and punch the button for the 6th floor. A pinging noise sounds, telling me that the elevator has recognized where I want to go, and I lean my head back and sigh with relief as the doors begin to creep closed. Almost back to the room without trouble.

Almost.

"Wait!" A hand flies in between the closing doors and - like in all elevators - the mechanisms release, allowing the doors to open again and preventing the crushing of the person so impatient that they couldn't wait for the next ride. And, while I'd usually only be _mildly _annoyed at this impromptu interruption in my otherwise peaceful journey from the ground floor to the sixth, the person stumbling into the elevator (she hasn't yet noticed it's me) is one of the two people on my TBA list. So much for avoidance.

"That was close, huh?" She says with a chuckle, before turning her head to look at her company properly. Her face twists almost instantly, into an expression that I can't quite read. "Oh. It's you."

I fold my arms and turn my body to face straight ahead, at the doors that are closing uninterrupted this time. If I don't look at her, I can't think about how hot she is, right? Uh-huh. "Yeah. It's me. And I'd just like to say that I so told you that you'd be the one to crack first."

"Believe me, Chad. If I'd known that it was you in here, then I wouldn't have said a word as I got in."

I cock an eyebrow, unable to resist glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. "But you'd have still gotten the elevator to stop for you?"

"Eh, I breathe the same air as you day in day out; if I had a problem with the thought of spending thirty seconds in your presence then I'd probably need to consider a different job. As it happens, I have no qualms about standing in an elevator with you for thirty seconds. It's your jerkish comments that I could do without," she says, coolly.

Opening my mouth to reply, I realize that I have no quick reply ready (dammit, why does that always happen to me when Sonny Munroe is involved?) and so close it just as quickly.

"Besides," she adds, and even out of the corner of my eye I can see the look of amusement on her face. "I would've thought by your actions today, you'd have jumped at the chance to - what was it? - _gawk _some more?"

As much as I desperately want to, I can't control the blush that makes its way over my cheeks (there's obviously something wrong here; Chad Dylan Cooper does _not _blush) and this obviously adds to Sonny's amusement; her small smile widens to gives me that impression. I'm just about to reply with what I'm sure will be a pathetic attempt at a witty comeback when a horrible grinding noise comes from outside the elevator and - my stomach sinks - it actually stops.

Silence passes between us, even though the conversation wasn't at a natural finishing point, and I hold my breath, praying that it starts up again. Come on. Come on…

When nothing happens, I turn to look at Sonny properly and see that the smile has been wiped off her face and replaced with a look of sheer panic.

Ha! Not so witty now, are we?

"We can't be at the sixth floor yet, can we?" She says, her voice shaking a little and I feel kind of guilty about my last thought.

Reaching out, I press my finger to another of the buttons, hoping that will dislodge the elevator from where it got stuck or make it go again. It doesn't.

I stand up straight and shift my weight a little, jumping up and down, in the hope that it'll start it's ascend to the sixth floor again. It doesn't.

I press all of the buttons, praying that giving it a whole bunch of destinations will make it choose at least one and start it going again. It doesn't.

Finally, I take two strides over to the elevator door and bang on it, wondering if anyone can hear us or if we're stuck in limbo between two floors.

"Can anyone hear me? Can someone please get us out of this elevator? I'm Chad Dylan Cooper and I promise to make it worth your - "

"Shut up, Chad," Sonny says, her voice still quivering. She hasn't moved since the grinding noise and even with the terrible lighting in this confined space, I can still tell she's gotten a whole lot paler. "Just… stop yelling."

Folding my arms, I walk back over to her and shrug over-exaggeratedly. "If I don't yell, how do you propose we get out of here, Munroe? Magic? You'll say abracadabra and suddenly the elevator will start moving again? It's stuck! We're stuck! And if I don't keep yelling to alert people to the fact that we're in here, we may never get out."

She swallows - loudly - and shakes her head lightly, her gaze not on me (was she _crazy_?) but fixed on the closed metal doors instead. "Don't say that. We're not… we have to get out of here. We're not stuck. It'll probably start moving again in a couple seconds. It's just…"

"Just what?" I ask, my tone _possibly _progressing to the point of cruelty. "_Resting_? Face it, Munroe. This elevator is stuck. And we're just going to have to wait for someone to realize and call the fire department. I just hope that they're as efficient here as they are back in LA, because I do not want to be stuck in this confined - "

I don't get chance to finish my sentence, because at the word 'confined' Sonny lets out a little whimper, backing into the handrail that lines the walls. Wrinkling my nose, I study her face properly and can tell right away that this isn't acting. She's from Chuckle City; acting as scared as she looks would probably be way beyond her talents (even if I did fall for her sprained ankle at that stupid musical chairs thing…). For some reason, Sonny Munroe is terrified of being in this elevator. And my stomach sinks as I figure out what, potentially, it is that she's terrified of.

"C'mon, Munroe. You don't have to be scared," I say, hoping that I sound like I care. I mean, I _do _care - I don't exactly want her to be _scared _- but sometimes I don't have the best of luck when it comes to sounding sincere. "I guess I kind of get it…"

The girl in front of me looks up into my eyes, the look of fear being replaced by one of confusion. "You do?"

I nod, reaching out slowly and thinking twice (question: is patting her on the shoulder going too far with the whole caring thing?) before I let my hand rest on her shoulder. "Yeah. It's totally understandable. I mean - " I take a deep breath, letting my own shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "I know what the papers say about me, but most of it is completely untrue. I'm not a monster, and there is no way that I'd try anything on you when we're stuck in an elevator. Don't worry about it."

Her face goes blank as she processes what I'm saying and I literally have no time to react as her Converse sneaker stomps down hard on my foot.

"Ow!" I jump away from her, instinctively reaching to clutch my now injured foot. "What the hell was that for?"

"I'm not scared because I think you're capable of rape, Chad! As it happens, I don't think you are capable of anything near as bad as rape and even if you were, you hate me, so I highly doubt you'd 'try it on', or whatever you just said! My God, the world does not revolve around you! People can feel happy or sad or mad or _scared _without you having anything to do with it, you know!" She cries, the fear temporarily replaced with her anger at me - though I'm still not quite sure it was totally deserved. Why else would she be scared?

Wiggling my toes around without taking off my shoe (I don't _think_ any bones were broken or any permanent damage had been caused, which was a very good thing seeing as I didn't have foot insurance) I look back over at her and scoff. "Fine, Miss Hammertoe. What _are_ you trembling in your high-tops about?"

She shrugs and resumes her position leaning against the wall, as though it's the only thing holding her up. Which, come to think of it, it might be. "I just don't really like…" Trailing off, her gaze falls to the floor and she fixes her eyes on the hideous mauve carpet that obviously didn't cost the designer a large sum of money.

"You just don't really like what?" I ask, keeping my distance this time. There is no way I'm getting another dead foot. The next blow could be fatal. To… my feet. Fatal to my feet and only my feet.

Again, she mutters something that I can barely hear and I cup my hand around my ear, leaning my upper body closer to her (my legs stayed right where they were; she was dangerous!). "Say what now?"

Sonny sighs and, realizing that she's both stuck in an elevator without an escape route and that I'm not going to give up asking until I find out the answer, she looks me in the eye and replies. "Confined spaces. I'm alright with them for a few minutes, like a typical elevator journey, but any more than that…"

Oh. Well. That makes sense. Kinda. Except not… really. She's in confined spaces all the time in her line of work; how can she be scared of them?

"What about planes?"

"I'm okay with planes." She says, shrugging.

"Aren't planes just as confined as this is?" I ask, frowning.

"I can't explain it, Chad! I'm fine with planes, I'm not fine with stuck elevators!" She closes her eyes and slides down the wall of the elevator, coming to rest in a sitting position on the floor.

I look down at her, taking a moment to consider why it was that even after a day in the sea, Sonny's hair was still looking pretty good. If I'd gone in the water, my hair would have probably been terrible, but the So Randomer sitting down in front of me was doing pretty well at maintaining good hair.

Wait. What the heck am I thinking? She may be hot, but I still don't _care._

"Right. Well…" I look around lamely, as though some sort of resolution to the situation we were now both in (it was totally going to affect me if she started hyperventilating on me because she couldn't stand the enclosed space) was going to appear out of thin air. "I don't really know how to… help."

She lifts her head and opens her eyes, looking at me as though I've grown an extra head. "Why would you want to help?"

"Because, Munroe, if you die because you're panicking and can't breathe and then this elevator starts moving again and turns up in the lobby with a very much alive person and a corpse in it, there may be speculation and rumors. And I don't want to be associated with that," I say quickly.

Laughing, Sonny raises her eyebrows. "Yet you're okay with being practically accused of rape by the tabloids?"

My face falls and while I try to cover it up by rolling my eyes, I know she saw my immediate reaction. "Of course I'm not. But I'm Hollywood's 'bad boy'; what choice do I have? They're gonna say what they want…"

She rolls her eyes and lets her gaze slide to the heavy metal doors. "Everyone has a choice. If you don't want to be Hollywood's bad boy - and, to be honest, I can't see why anyone would… apart from James, maybe - then you don't have to be. You totally tried to fix your image when you sabotaged my interview. Why did you stop?"

"I… I don't actually think I ever _really _started. It just looked like I did," I say, only working the answer to that question out seconds before the words leave my lips. "You said it yourself, after all; I sabotaged your interview with Santiago to try and fix my image which, in itself, isn't helping to improve my image."

Sonny connects her brown eyes with mine and smiles. The corners of her eyes crinkle in the way that only a genuine grin can make them and a really odd feeling washes over me. Even odder than the 'Sonny is hot' revelation earlier. "Chad Dylan Cooper, you're a total oxymoron."

"I guess so." I admit, shrugging slightly as I continue looking down at her, trying to work out what is _happening_ to me. Why am I suddenly noticing every little thing about Sonny, from the way she smiles to the color of her eyes (which are like, _the _perfect shade of brown, by the way)? Why do I get this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach when she shoots me a grin? And why am I overanalyzing all of these things?

A silence passes between us and I take the opportunity to mentally kick myself. This is not how it's supposed to be. I am _not _supposed to be made to feel out of my depth whenever I'm around a cast member of _So Random! _for God's sake. Because I am Chad Dylan Cooper and the part of my brain that's causing that odd feeling in my stomach would do well to remember that at this very moment in time.

The silence is broken by a loud beeping noise coming from the control panel of the elevator (I think that's where it's coming from anyways). Sonny's head shoots up and the panic alights in her eyes once again as she tries to work out why, exactly, the beeping is occurring (well, I'm assuming she's trying to work that out, because that's what _I'm _doing and it seems to be the _logical _thing to do).

"Why is it making that noise?" She asks, obviously unable to come to a conclusion on her own.

Without thinking, I shrug and answer immediately. "Dunno."

I don't even have chance to revel in the fact that I was actually able to answer a question put to me by Sonny Munroe without having to overanalyze the answer, because the whimper that leaves her lips seconds after my reply echoes around the small space is nothing to celebrate about. She's _actually _petrified.

"I'm sure it's just some sort of warning signal," I say quickly, trying to come up with some sort of story that sounds both reassuring and realistic at the same time.

"A warning signal?" She mutters, her eyes still fixed firmly on the silver panel in the wall. "Like… a warning to the people stuck in the elevator that it's going to dislodge in thirty seconds and they're going to die?"

Oh boy.

Swiftly taking a seat next to her on the floor (I cannot _believe _I'm actually sitting on this hideous carpet - who knows what could be all over it?) I shake my head and try to think quickly. "Don't be stupid. A warning signal to the janitor of this hotel, telling him that the elevator is stuck. Or it's beeping as a sign that it's resetting itself and we'll be moving again any second."

"Yeah," she mutters - under her breath, though I'm sitting real close to her, so she might as well have yelled it - darkly. "Moving as we fall to our deaths."

I can't help it; I laugh. The fact that Sonny Munroe is being so… not-optimistic about this whole situation is just too weird and, consequently, quite funny. Well, that and the fact that, if you'd asked me only a few minutes ago, I'd have said if Sonny and I got stuck in an elevator, we'd have probably killed _each other _before we could fall to our deaths.

"It's not funny, Chad!" She turns to me, her voice outraged at my laughter. She obviously hadn't had the mental picture I'd had.

"It's a little bit funny, Munroe. Think about it: I'm surprised we've both managed to stay alive this long. I know a bunch of people who would have actually bet on us killing each other as opposed to being killed by an elevator explosion."

My words sunk in and I could see that even she was fighting not to smile, and was trying to cover up the turning up of her lips by rolling her eyes.

"My last few moments on Earth are stuck in a confined space with Chad Dylan Cooper. I must've done something terrible in a previous life, huh?"

Chuckling slightly, I shrug. "See, I'd have said you must've done something great. A lot of people would love their last moments to be with me."

Sonny nudges me lightly with her elbow and I turn to look at her properly, her brown eyes connecting with mine instantly and I don't want to look away.

"A lot of crazy people."

"Don't say that where they can hear you; those girls can be wild. If you manage to get out of here alive, they'll be on your case for calling them crazy."

"I'll take my chances," she grins. "I think I could take them on."

I raise an eyebrow, painting a skeptical expression on my face. "Oh, really? You do?"

"Uh-huh." She nods, vigorously. "What? You don't believe me?"

Pretending to look her up and down (we're both sitting down, it's a fairly impossible move to _actually _perform) I hesitate for a few seconds and then shake my head. "All - what? 100 pounds? - of you could take on a whole horde of crazy fan-girls? I don't think so."

"Psht," she says, waving a hand in the air and allowing an air of self-confidence to wash over her. "Don't be underestimating me, Chad Dylan Cooper. I might be 100 pounds, but I know karate."

Is she for real? I can't really tell, and she knows. She knows from my lack of speaking that I'm not 100 percent sure whether she is a martial arts wonder or not.

Examining her face, I look for any signs that she's telling a huge great lie. It's perfectly straight, it seems, apart from a little glint in her eyes that wasn't there when I was admiring (ugh) the color a few moments ago.

Scoffing, I shake my head again, breaking our eye contact. "Yeah, right. Sonny Munroe doing karate."

She sighs, before laughing lightly. "What gave me away?"

I look sideways at her, seeing her small smile out of the corner of my eye. "Dunno. It was like I could just tell. Plus I just couldn't imagine you taking on Jackie Chan at karate. It didn't fit in my imagination at all."

"That doesn't say much," she laughs again, nudging me in the side with her unusually sharp elbows. "I mean, your imagination can't have much capacity room, what with your ego taking up most of the space in your head."

Oh, _ouch. _Placing a hand over my heart, I fake a hurt expression. "Oh wow, kudos. That was a good one, Munroe. Hurt me deep."

"Well, I try," she says, matching my hurt look with one of immense pride.

The silence passes between us again, but it's not like the last one. The alarm thing is still going off, for one (although I didn't really notice it all that much in the duration of mine and Sonny's banter) but we'd actually just had a proper conversation. Like, I don't know… like _friends _would. There'd been little off-the-rail comments, but it had been… _fun._

The beeping suddenly ceases and the silence becomes more evident than before. I rack my brains for something to say; something that can bring back the type of conversation we just had. Ahhh, where is my backup supply of witty conversation starters when I need it?

Leaning my head back against the wall of the elevator and rolling it so that I can see Sonny more clearly, I notice that she's got her eyes closed and that her lips are moving, as though she's speaking without actually forming words. I'm not the best at lip reading so I can't make out what, exactly, she's saying. So, obviously, the only way I'm going to find out is by asking.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes snap open and she rolls her head to look at me; subconsciously mirroring the action that I'd done seconds previously. "I was singing. Just… not out loud. To myself. To try and take my mind away from the fact that I'm trapped in an elevator. And okay, that sounded lamer out loud than it did in my head."

"I didn't know you sang," I say, ignoring her comment about how lame she sounded.

It's true; I didn't. And surely, when you've spent almost every day working on the same studio lot as someone, you find out facts like whether they sing or not. You do, right?

Sonny wrinkles her nose at me, as though she'd read my mind and thinks otherwise. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Chad."

I open my mouth to respond, but suddenly there's a awful crunch of gears winding their way into place (though, for a second both Sonny and I think that her hypothesis of plunging to our deaths while trapped in an elevator is about to come true - she grabs my hand and puts it in a death grip, so I'm sure to have the bruise for proof) and, slowly, the elevator begins its ascent once again.

She lets out an audible sigh of relief and then grins at me. "Looks like we won't be dying today, huh?"

"Let's wait until we get safely to the sixth floor before we assume that, okay?"

Sonny laughs, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, okay. Wait, you're on the sixth floor too?"

"Uh-huh," I nod, forgetting that I hadn't exactly informed her of that tidbit of information. To be honest, I'd spent a hell of a lot of time arguing/discovering she was hot/trying to stop her freaking out over being claustrophobic and so the thought of telling her we were staying on the same floor never really crossed my mind. Sue me.

"Wow." Raking a hand through her hair (which is a _little _bit greasy - although, annoyingly, that doesn't make her look any less… ugh I need to stop thinking) she mutters, almost as though she's forgotten that I can hear her. "The planets obviously wanted to throw us together this vacation." Then (obviously she remembers that I have _ears _and that we're in an enclosed space) her head shoots up and a light blush comes over her cheeks. "I mean… ugh, you know what I mean. A lot of coincidences, is all."

"Yeah," I nod, not really in the mood to poke fun at her about the connotations of the first sentence. I don't think I really want to go there anyway… "Yeah, Sonny. I know what you mean."

Sonny's face changes almost instantly; her nose screws up in a way that I'm sure can only be cute on her, and her eyebrows slide closer together as she frowns, but her eyes soften and there's a trace of a smile in the very corners of her lips.

"What?" I ask, getting ready to stand up, as the elevator pings to let us know we've arrived at our destination - albeit a lot later than planned.

"You… you called me Sonny," she says, quietly and after a hesitation, as though she's not sure whether she should tell me at all.

I raise my eyebrows, pressing the palms of my hands to the floor and using them to push myself up into a standing position, so that I'm looking down on her once again. The doors slide open behind me, but I wouldn't have noticed them were it not for the grating noise they made as they parted. "That _is _your name, is it not?"

"No… yeah. Yeah, it's my name but… you've never… said it like that before." Her voice trails off at the end of the sentence, so that the last few words are barely audible, but her eyes - which had followed me as I'd stood up - were still firmly interlocked with mine as she looked up at me. "I mean, you've called me by my name before, but it's usually just 'Munroe' or 'Sonny Munroe'…"

I shrug, still not really sure what the big deal is (though I want to know what she meant by that first comment…). "Yeah, well sometimes I mix it up a little. Just to keep you on your toes."

She looks as though she's about to say something else - maybe a longer explanation of what, exactly, she'd meant by 'never said it like that before' because that's what's puzzling me - but obviously decides against it and pushes herself up to join me in standing up. Her eyes stay locked with mine for a few seconds and, unlike the usual battles of blue and brown, there's something different. Something changed in her eyes in that elevator, and I can't pinpoint what.

"Ah, sweet freedom!" Sonny cries, turning away from me with a smile and stepping out onto the landing, skipping a little way up the hall. "If this floor weren't so dirty, I could kiss it."

"Whatever strikes your fancy, Munroe," I say, slipping my card key from my pocket and tapping the palm of my hand with it as I try and decide whether a goodbye would be appropriate, or whether come tomorrow we'd be back to not speaking. Honestly, I can't quite decide which I'd like best at this moment in time. My head is kind of reeling.

She seems to be thinking the same thing, because there's suddenly an awkward mood in the air around us.

Uhh…

"So… which one's yours?" Sonny asks, clearing her throat before cutting through the layer of awkward. Or attempting to, at least.

Gesturing to a door further up the hall, I shrug. "616."

"Oh. I'm 611."

I nod, trying to look less interested than I am in this information. "Oh. Cool."

"Yeah…" Sonny says, elongating the word so that it stretches around us, trying to keep the conversation going. Trying to bring back that feeling of friendship that had been present in the elevator. Stretching around us to try and squeeze us closer together, just like Sonny had said the "planets" had wanted us to be on this vacation.

It doesn't succeed.

"Well… I'd better be going. I said I'd… call my mom and I'm way late in doing that, so…" she says, looking down at the carpet in the halls (which, FYI, are just as - if not more - horrible as the ones in the elevator) and hovering outside the door to her room.

I nod in understanding, backing away to the door to my own room. "Yeah… you should go do that."

She looks up from the floor and lets her eyes connect with mine one more time, offering me a genuine smile as she slides the card into the door without even looking at what she's doing. And then, without so much as a goodbye, she's slipping inside and enclosing herself in the four walls, shutting me out in the process.

I mimic her actions and let myself into my own room, shutting the door quietly behind me and leaning up against it, like they do in all the movies.

Funny. Right now, my life feels more like a movie than it ever has before. And, for an actor, that's a weird concept. Life imitates art, that's for sure. Or… maybe it's the other way around.


End file.
